


When it rains, it pours

by Lizardlicks



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Fluff, Gen, Grubs (Homestuck), Hurt/Comfort, Mpreg, Multi, Oviparous Trolls, Oviposition, Petstuck, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 12:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10571781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardlicks/pseuds/Lizardlicks
Summary: Dolly was expecting a quiet evening at home with her family, but she gets something else entirely when her adopted kids bring home a new troll.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Old piece reposted from the Homesmut kinkmeme. Original prompt and fill can be found here ==> http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/39716.html?thread=46382884#cmt46382884

A nice,  _ quiet _ evening.  That’s what you told yourself on Sunday, when you were so close to done with your weekend on call.  The last seventy hours had been brutal, with two more left to go, but you kept yourself going strong with promises of warm sheets and a late morning with nothing to do all day.  When that morning dawned bright and early, with perfect, cloudless skies, you ignored it completely; rolled over, snored, maybe drooled on your pillow a little.  Sometime between the point when your body hit the mattress and when you finally dragged yourself, sleep fuzzy and happy, from the depths of slumber in search of food, Kankri had left a scribbled note letting you know he and Meulin were going out, and not planning on being home for dinner.  Good troll, best son.

That left you with yourself to feed, and possibly Psii, though he’s such a wildcard you couldn’t know what he was up to any given day.  Exiting your bedroom you found him slouched on the couch, remote... on the table actually, he was channel surfing with his brain again.  You don’t know if that’s good for the electronics or not, but you’ve never gotten him out of the habit.  At your long suffering sigh, he just laughed, “What,” as if he didn’t know and you hadn’t told him a thousand times, so you smiled and shook your head.  You couldn’t be that mad at him, you came out of slumber hungry, and something in the direction of kitchen already smelled good.

“You made food?” you asked, already drifting toward it like an errant, flame drawn moth.

“Jutht frozen pizza.”  He flipped to another channel, apparently bored of ‘Zombie Shamblers’ already.  “Don’t get too exthited.”

“You sir, are a god-sent angel.”

He snorted.  “And don’t forget it.  Thnag me a couple sliceth sinthe you’re up.”

Yes, a nice quiet evening.  Just you, part of your adopted family, whatever stupid drivel was spilling out of the TV, and all the Mega-mart frozen pizza you could stuff into your faces.

 

* * *

 

You’re petting Psii’s hair absently with one hand, and pinning a book open with the other- one of the Gloria Fangstein novels that’s been piling up in the absence of having time off- when the front door crashes wide open.  If it wasn’t for Psii’s head in your lap, you might have jumped three feet off the couch.  Instead, your book goes flying when he bolts up and inadvertently knocks it out of your hand.  Kankri is trying to bundle something- or rather some _ one _ \- big through the door; another troll, though certainly not little Meulin. 

“Kankri Maryam, what on earth!” you shout at the same time Psii snaps, “Fuck’th thake, kid!”  Your trollish sprat gives you a sheepish grin in reply.

“A little help?”

Meu has stuffed herself under the fellow’s other arm and they’re both trying to support his considerable weight as he pants and groans.  Psii is already crossing the room with you following hot on his heels.  The new troll is... he’s not just taller and broader, he’s built like a freaking freight train, latticed with scars over his visible skin, including two rather unfortunate looking marks across the middle of his face.  He's got sharp, handsome features in spite of the past mauling though.  You could guess he was cold blooded just from size alone if his tightly pinned fins weren’t a dead give-away.  As if all this weren’t enough though, he’s laboring under the weight of a distended belly, obviously heavily gravid.  Just as Psii and Meu trade places, he gives a pained groan and hunches inward.

“Bring him to the bathroom, I’ll get the water started,” you instruct them while moving away to do just that, emergency mode snapping into place like a well worn mantle.  This is starting to feel like deja vu.

 

* * *

 

“Leave off, kits, I can get me own gear,” he snips at your kids, making you bristle for a moment, but he’s right, and there really isn’t all that much room for maneuvering.  Even in the big master bath, he takes up a good share of the available floor space. 

“Be dears, and go get us some clean towels from the linen closet,” you tell them, bending over the sink to scrub up.  Meulin and Psii go.  Kankri lingers and starts pulling out things you might need from the cupboards, your latex gloves among them.  Those he hands to you without a word.  Orphaner, as the big sea troll briefly introduced himself, shucks the rest of his clothes and eases himself into the tub, grunting with effort, or another contraction, you can’t tell for certain. Kankri gathers the clothing off the floor and moves it out of the way.  Not for the first time you wonder about Orphaner’s history.  The items look like they were expensive new, but while well cared for, they’re still worn.  Then there’s all his scars and the strange manner of speaking he has.  Now is not the time to pry, but you’ll get his story out of him one way or another.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, you turn and cross the room, brisk and businesslike.  “Now then.  Hope you don’t mind if we skip the pleasantries!”

“Darlin’, any business ya got with me’ll be pleasa-aaAAH!”  What he thought was a clever retort is cut short by the next contraction.  He’s got to be close, he’s chipping the porcelain of your tub with his claws from how tight he grips the sides.  You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder with one hand as you kneel beside him, and reach down between his legs with the other.

Even with the pain he must be in, he tries to stay good and still for you. As gently as you can, you prod into his nook with two fingers to check his dilation. The contractions are close enough together that you wouldn’t be surprised if-

“Oh!”  Instead of the opening seal toward the back of the troll’s nook, you encounter the firm, squishy bulge of an egg.  Well then!  “First one is right there, honey, take a deep breath and push!”

Wordlessly, he nods.  The next time a contraction comes on, he sucks in through his nose and bears into it, groaning with exertion.  The egg moves, only just, and then he tapers off and pants for breath.  

“Perfect, just like that.  Keep it up!” Progress is slow, but steady as he repeats to process under gentle coaxing. You hear murmuring behind you; Meulin’s returned with the towels you asked for, she exchanges a few words with Kankri quietly then departs.  Psii wasn’t with her, you assume he’s resumed his vigil on the couch.

Kankri runs some water in the sink then comes to kneel beside you and press a cool, damp washcloth to Orphaner’s sweat slicked forehead.  The beleaguered troll growls something close to thanks.  His relief is fleeting in the onset of another contraction.

 

* * *

 

“OoooOOOOOOH GOD,  _ FUCK _ !”

“That’s it, baby. This is the hard part, just push through. You can do it!”

The first egg has peaked at its widest part, and this is the loudest Orphaner has been all night.  He redoubles his efforts in spite of the pain, and a moment later you have the warm weight of a egg cradled in your hand.  With all gentleness and reverence, you bring it up and place it on its panting mother’s chest where he can see for himself the miracle en miniature he’s wrought.  He settles back with a satisfied purr of temporary relief, holding it just as gently.

“Sweet little thing, ye gave me some trouble,” he growls, full of weary affection.

“The rest will go smoother,” you assure him with a soft pat, “you got the tough job over with.”

He snorts more than laughs, winces even with that.  “Tough job’ll be wranglin’ the get after they’re all hatched out.”

True,” you agree with a stolen glance at your own mostly grown grub.  Kankri isn’t paying attention, he’s looking at the egg.

“Hey, it’s already pipping,” he says, and you blink.  All the literature you’ve read says grubs usually take hours or days to get that far, but sure enough, on a closer look you can see the tear in the eggcase where a little claw is working it’s way out.  Orphaner seems unphased; he helps to peel away the protective coating as the grub squirms for freedom.  In a couple of minutes he’s tenderly holding a gooey, squeaking baby in place of an egg.  Kankri brings over dry, fluffy towels which he accepts gratefully. 

“Here boy, mind him for me? I, ah- nnng- I think its clutch mates want their turn.”  He deposits the squirming creature into Kankri’s arms, and your poor boy looks momentarily terrified, which quickly gives way to smitten.

“You did fine, keep going,” you try to assure him again.  He nods and pulls himself up to finish the work.

 

* * *

 

He’s so exhausted by the time you can get him cleaned up and moved into your bedroom that he’s fighting off sleep as soon as he hits the bed.  You sympathize.  He won’t go under until he has all his grubs settled and nesting happily in the curve of his body though.  Impatient creatures were hatching as soon as they could, so now instead of keeping a vigil over a nest of eggs there are three tiny terrors dozing in the protective circle made by their mother.

For all his size and intimidation, Orphaner makes for something between heartwarming and ridiculous squeezed into a spare set of Psii’s pajama bottoms (he was the only one tall enough to fit, and even then Orphaner fills them out so much more than Psii ever has) and purring like a small engine while he curls around his brood.  You need to make sure he gets some food and liquid into himself soon, but for now you let him rest.  You turn to leave to room but the soft rumble of his voice catches you up.

“Thank you.  An’ that boy a yours, too.  Not too many who’d open their homes to complete strangers, an’ I’m not for certain a what would have happened to me an’ mine if ya hadn’t.”

You smile, feeling something familiar and warm kindling in your chest.  That feeling of some something right, like the universe has handed you another puzzle piece for your life.  You don’t know where it goes yet, but you know it fits somewhere.  Just like Psii and Meulin.  Just like the tiny, mutant red grub you found so many years ago.

“You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need.  Rest for now.”

He mutters something to the affirmative, apparently spent of all his words for the moment, so you leave and close the door softly behind you.  Four more lives have crashed into yours, and you have no doubt that once again they will mold perfectly.


End file.
